


A Wish to Stop Dreaming

by Metafiction



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, post 5x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:25:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metafiction/pseuds/Metafiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re kissing. They’re kissing and it doesn’t mean anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wish to Stop Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> This is super short sorry, but I just scribbled this down really quickly and idk I think it's okay? Maybe?

They’re kissing. They’re kissing and it doesn’t mean anything.

Ian thinks about the stars and fireworks popping behind eyes, echoes of the sound bouncing off the walls of their neighborhood, laughing and joking and sucking in fresh air like it’s the first time they’ve done so. The smell of bonfires and burnt marshmallows, trees scattering the sunlight above them.

It doesn’t mean anything.

He touches the side of Mickey’s face as lips move against lips. The dark hair, the beginning of it at his temples. A scratch, a brush through the softness of it. It’s not enough.

Sparks as a lighter’s flicked. Small touches as they watch the sun go down and their lungs burn with too much smoke. These are all memories – good memories. Warm thoughts that make his mind dizzy with bliss.

It should be enough.

He moves his fingertips at the place where Mickey’s neck meets the top of his back, then the span of his shoulder blades under the cloth of his shirt. His fingers glide like they know where they’re going. And they do- of course they do. He could never forget even if he tried; the path they’ve always trailed across Mickey’s body is painfully familiar.

He doesn’t know why it’s not enough. Until he does. When he wakes up from the dream he hadn’t known was a dream, he’s in his bed at home and he’s alone. A half empty bottle of meds at his bedside table from the last time Mickey reminded him to take them. It’s been a long time since he heard his voice. His fingers twitch under the covers, a knee-jerk reaction to light a cigarette or go and get some alcohol, to try to relax and forget a little. He breathes a deep sigh before he closes his eyes again.

They’re kissing.


End file.
